


In the Quiet Morning

by leventhian



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Comeplay, Dom/sub, Domestic, Dominance, Fluff, M/M, Submission, dom!stiles, sub!derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:42:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leventhian/pseuds/leventhian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a soft smile on Derek’s face, his eyes are still closed, and his normally messy black hair is plastered to his skull. Having this gorgeous man completely stripped down in front of him should be immensely erotic, but Stiles is too struck by how domestic this feels, and for the millionth time, can’t help but just think the word beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Quiet Morning

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was beta'd by the wonderful Lielabell, who did a wonderful job of cleaning up the mess that I had written. She's amazing. :)

Every morning Derek stays over, Stiles is always the first to wake up. He’s in college, he doesn’t do early, but even so, he always manages to rise before Derek. He always blames Stiles for wearing him out, but Stiles likes to think Derek trusts him enough that he can finally get some rest when they’re alone. If it were a school day, Stiles might have to jump out of bed and make for the shower while Derek lounges in bed. If he wakes up early enough, sometimes Stiles can convince Derek to come with him for a lazy round of shower sex. If he’s really lucky, he can convince Derek to leave his tiny apartment to get some breakfast with him before his first lecture. But, thankfully, it’s the weekend and Stiles can stay in bed, warm, not quite conscious, listening to Derek’s deep, even breathing.

Derek is spooning him, naked, with little space between their bodies. He has his nose buried in Stiles’s hair, something Derek’s taken to doing ever since Stiles grew it out, breath ghosting across his neck. Derek’s arm is heavy, draped tightly around Stiles’s waist, and their legs are inescapably tangled together.

If anything has surprised Stiles about his relationship with Derek, it’s how incredibly tactile his boyfriend is. While their relationship is in many ways the same as it was when they were still just friends, the differences still have Stiles reeling. They bicker, Stiles sassing Derek while he huffs in mock exasperation, desperately trying not to smile. But while they’re arguing, Derek’s hands will have somehow made their way around Stiles’s fingers. They’ll watch TV, and Derek will insult Stiles’s love of bad reality shows, but his head will be in Stiles’s lap so he can card his fingers through Derek’s hair. There is almost never a moment when Derek isn’t trying to find an excuse to touch the younger man.

And Stiles loves every second.

A car backfires outside and jolts Stiles out of his thoughts. Deciding he’s lazed enough of his day away, Stiles starts to move, and Derek lets out a sleepy grumble that definitely does not have Stiles cooing.

“Der,” Stiles says, and he feels Derek’s fingers tighten a little on his hip. “Der,” he tries again, and Derek shift closer.

“Morning?” Derek asks, voice rough with sleep. Stiles huffs a little, glancing at the glaring twelve on his alarm clock, while Derek nuzzles at the back of his neck.

“Meh, close enough. How’d you sleep?”

Derek rumbles his satisfaction and disentangles them so he can arch his back and stretch while Stiles turns to face him. Stiles is struck by how perfect his bedmate looks. His hair is messy, disheveled, and Derek is wiping away at the corner of his mouth where he was drooling. They never bother with the covers, so Stiles can get his fill of Derek’s body, completely bare except for the collar that’s still buckled around his neck. As Derek rubs the sleep from his eyes, Stiles reaches out to touch the stubble on Derek’s cheek, just because Derek is his to touch, and the sensation earns him his sub’s attention.

“You sleep too much.” Derek deadpans after he’s settled, but his eyes are alight with mischief, something Stiles rarely sees.

“Oy, I’m a teenager. We’re supposed to stay up late and bitch if we get woken up earlier that noon. Evolution’s on my side. What’s your excuse?” 

Derek laughs before breaking into a yawn, and Stiles tries to ignore how impossibly cute he finds that. “You thrashed my ass last night. Might be a factor.” Derek shoots him a heatless glare, and Stiles flashes his teeth in a grin, completely unrepentant. 

The previous night had been one of the rare occasions Stiles had spanked Derek with something other than his own hand, in this case a belt. Derek had been staring at his belt all day, and he felt that was a sign to break in the new leather.

“Please, you enjoyed it.” Stiles doesn’t miss the way Derek’s cock twitches where it lays against his thigh, filling out a little. “Shower?”

“Might as well. You’re going to whine until you’ve washed off,” Derek says, sounding exasperated. He rolls away to stand up, completely shameless with the fact that his body is on display.

“It’s not my fault we’re gross in the mornings. Someone always wants to sleep instead of hopping into the shower,” Stiles teases as he rises. He makes his way to the door, then turns back to stare at Derek, who hasn’t moved.

“It’s my wolf,” Derek begins, tense for the first time that morning as he apparently searches for a way to explain himself. However, before Derek can get to his apology, Stiles cuts him off.

“I know, babe. I get it, and it’s okay.” And it really is. They’ve had this conversation hundreds of times before, but Derek always feels the need to apologize. Each time Stiles dominates Derek, he’s more than receptive, but his Alpha instincts go haywire. While in scene, Derek’s wolf is more than happy to roll over for him and obey, but afterwards, that part of him can’t help but feel pathetic for wanting Stiles in control. Mix that together with subdrop, and Stiles is surprised Derek doesn’t lose himself more. Afterwards, the Alpha’s wolf feels the need to reassert himself, to protect what’s his, and to prove to his mate that he isn’t weak. The best way to do that is by scent marking, which fits together perfectly with the tactile comfort Derek’s human side craves after he’s subbed. It also fits together with the closeness Stiles craves after a scene, and he loves the cuddling Derek’s wolf enforces.

“I’m not complaining,” Stiles offers with a smile.

“You’re always complaining.” Derek replies, but his body language screams relief. Stiles rolls his eyes instead of responding, and walks into the hallway, Alpha in tow.

The restroom Stiles has is small, barely large enough to handle two fully grown men, but Derek and Stiles have their routine down to an art form. Stiles grabs his toothbrush to brush his teeth while Derek shifts past him to stand in front of the toilet, cock held loosely in his hands. For a moment, the only noise that can be heard is the quiet swishing of Stiles’s toothbrush, before Derek starts to piss while Stiles watches. Derek has his head down as he directs the stream into the water, the loud splashing almost deafening in the confined room. Once he’s done, Derek shakes himself off, and they switch places, Derek picking up his toothbrush while Stiles relieves himself, toothbrush held in his mouth by his teeth.

“Hey, are you keeping your collar on?” Stiles asks as he moves back to the sink to spit, Derek shifting to accommodate.

“I wanted to, yeah.” Derek replied through a mouth full of toothpaste, stilling. “Unless-”

“No, no unless. I just wanted to know.” Stiles says, collecting water to rinse his mouth and Derek waits patiently for his turn. Once he’s done, Stiles watches as Derek takes his place, muscles flexing as he bends over to rinse his mouth. When Derek straightens, Stiles catches his eye in the mirror and hooks his chin onto the broad shoulders in front of him.

“I love that you wear this for me baby.” Stiles says, nuzzling the collar, and he marvels at the soft smile on Derek’s face. “You know how you look sleeping in that? You know how proud I am when you say you want to?”

“Yours,” Derek answers simply, and Stiles feels him swallow. Kissing the soft leather, he separates from Derek a little to unbuckle the collar.

“I’ll put that back on just as soon as we’re done showering.” Stiles promises. He sets the leather beside the sink, mindful to set it down on the dry portion of the porcelain.

“I know.” Derek replies softly, and Stiles can hear all of the affection he knows Derek sometimes struggles to convey. He squeezes at Derek’s hips as he draws his hands back and gives Derek’s neck a small lick, wanting to give Derek something his wolf would appreciate too.

Moving away, Stiles goes to the tub to fiddle with the shower handles. He gets the water the perfect temperature before pulling Derek into the tub with him. Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s waist, forehead resting against his neck, and just enjoys the feeling of the water cascading over the both of them for a moment. With a press of his lips to Derek’s neck, he separates and leans over to pick up the lightly scented soap.

“Close your eyes.” Stiles says, lathering his hands. Once he’s got a nice amount of soap, he moves to gently massage Derek’s scalp, and smiles as he hums his pleasure. Once he’s worked the soap into Derek’s hair, he leans him forward, so the spray pours over his head.

“Turn around, baby.” Stiles murmurs once Derek’s hair is clean, and he gathers more foam his while Derek complies. With soapy hands, he swipes tenderly at Derek’s neck, smiling as Derek tilts his head up to give him better access. Moving downwards, Stiles runs his hands over Derek’s torso, rubbing his sub’s chest, his abs. He spends an excessive amount of time tracing the cut lines of Derek’s body, relishing in the feel of strong muscle under soft skin as he massages to soothe away any potential discomfort. Derek is motionless, murmuring his contentment at Stiles’s treatment. Stiles stops for a moment, hands fanned against Derek’s ribs to just look at his boyfriend. There’s a soft smile on Derek’s face, his eyes are still closed, and his normally messy black hair is plastered to his skull. Having this gorgeous man completely stripped down in front of him should be immensely erotic, but Stiles is too struck by how domestic this feels, and for the millionth time, can’t help but just think the word beautiful.

“Let me get at your back, babe,” Stiles says after a moment. When Derek obeys, Stiles steps up close to help the spray wash away any leftover soap, before collecting more. He gives Derek’s back the same treatment he did his front, scrubbing and cleaning, massaging the muscles until he’s groaning in satisfaction. He lightly traces the triskelion inked onto Derek’s skin with his fingers, once again thrilling at the fact that Derek is his to touch, before he directs his boyfriend back into the water. With the last of the soap, he runs his hands up Derek’s sides until reaching his underarms, and Derek lifts his arms, grabbing at his neck to keep them out of the way. Stiles rubs and scratches into the small, neatly trimmed hair, while Derek tries not to shift away, ticklish.

“Spread your legs, Der.” Stiles moves his hands down to scrub between Derek’s legs, beginning with the smooth skin of his thighs. Derek shivers when he begins on his cock, and Stiles lets his touch linger, just to feel the cock harden a little in his grasp. He kneads at Derek’s balls with one hand and handles the shaft with the other, gently cleaning under the foreskin with a blunt nail, savoring the feel of the smooth, hairless skin. About a month prior, Derek had surprised him by shaving himself smooth, and since then, they hadn’t let it grow back, his underarms the only place with hair below his neck.

“Is your ass still sore?” Stiles asks with concern as he shifts to gently wipe at Derek’s ass, fingers sliding into the crack to wash away the evidence of the previous night’s activities.

“It’s never sore in the morning,” Derek replies gruffly, and Stiles can hear an almost petulant tone in his voice. Derek once admitted, while recovering from a session, that just once, it would be nice to feel the ache and the stretch in the morning. Stiles always reminds him that if that were the case, they wouldn’t be able to play hard as frequently as they did.

“You’re done,” Stiles says, hands resting on Derek’s hips. When Derek turns in his arms, he closes the gap between them to kiss, licking into Derek’s mouth. It’s tender, more about soothing and comfort than heat or passion.

“You taste like mint.” Derek murmurs into his mouth, and Stiles chuckles.

“Everything tastes like mint after you brush your teeth. I could get you to suck my cock right now, and it would taste like mint.” Derek shudders, and Stiles feels his sub’s cock filling further against his hip.

“That a request?” Derek asks, voice deep as he rocks lightly against Stiles. He laughs, and maneuvers them so they’ve switches places, Stiles under the showerhead, before he pulls away from Derek.

“Not at the moment. You’ll know when I want you to choke on my cock,” Stiles says, and Derek groans, eyes sliding shut. Stiles isn’t nearly as gentle with himself as he was with Derek, soaping his hands and scrubbing quickly and methodically under the torrent of water. Normally, they would switch at this point and Derek would take his time bathing Stiles, large, surprisingly soft hands tender as they scrub at his smaller frame. Unfortunately, Stiles can feel the water changing temperature, and he knows he’s got about four minutes before he’s stuck with a cold shower.

As soon as he’s done, Stiles turns off the shower while Derek grabs one of the towels from the rack. Derek gives himself a very sloppy pat down, just to get the water off, but takes his time with Stiles, apparently wanting to reciprocate for the shower. He dries Stiles’s hair with firm hands, obscuring himself from view. From there, he swipes at the droplets on Stiles’s torso, and Stiles lets Derek turn him to dry his back. Derek takes considerable time drying between Stiles’s legs, the rough fabric giving his cock delicious friction. Stiles knows the grin on Derek’s face, and he knows his sub is purposefully teasing him.

“That’s enough of that,” Stiles groans, voice a little rough, and he presses a kiss onto Derek’s lips. “Go to the living room. I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Hurry,” Derek replies, and Stiles laughs at how close the plea came to sounding like a command. He steps out of the tub and immediately falls on hands and knees, obeying his standing order to crawl unless otherwise ordered.

“Wait,” Stiles calls out when Derek’s in front of the sink. He steps out of the tub as Derek turns around to face him. Grabbing Derek’s collar, Stiles reaches down to buckle it around his lover’s neck, Derek rising as high as he can while still on his knees.

“Now you look like you’re mine again,” Stiles says, smiling at the look of pride on Derek’s face. He runs his hand through Derek’s hair while his sub preens under the attention. “Now you can go.”

“Yes sir. Thank you for my collar.” With that, Derek crawls out of the restroom, ass swaying tantalizingly, and Stiles closes his eyes as he pictures him crawling down the hall into the living room.

Stiles makes a quick stop in his bedroom, just to collect a t-shirt and some boxers. It isn’t much, but he knows Derek will be all the more aware of his nudity as a result. Making his way to the kitchen, he collects two bottles of water and a chicken roll he had prepared the previous day. Derek is kneeling with his head bowed in the center of the room when Stiles steps into the living room. Derek looks at him, and then crawls toward him. Stiles waits till Derek reaches his side before moving to the sofa, Derek following obediently behind. 

“Are you hungry?” Stiles asks, resting his hand on the still damp spikes of Derek’s hair. A few drops of water glisten on Derek’s torso, and Stiles watches as they run down, caressing his body. 

“A little,” Derek admits, as he lays his head on Stiles’s thigh, cheek pressed against a Batman logo on the boxers.

Stiles begins to tear small chunks of the chicken roll to feed both Derek and himself. Each time Stiles moves his hand down, Derek opens his mouth obediently, waiting for the morsel of food. Occasionally, Derek will tease at the hand feeding him, nipping or suckling on Stiles’s fingers as he accepts the bite and he can’t help the soft smile that forms on his face each time Derek does.

When the meal is consumed, Stiles unscrews the top of one of the water bottles and holds the top to Derek’s mouth. Stiles lets him drink until he sees a small amount of water dribbling down Derek’s chin. Finishing the bottle himself, he tosses it aside, and reaches for the TV remote, massaging Derek’s scalp in a way which has his sub purring.

“Get up here, babe.” 

Derek sighs happily as he rises to sprawl on the rest of the sofa, head cradled in Stiles’s lap. Stiles flips through the movie channels, trying to find something Derek can enjoy as he continues to pet him. Eventually, he settles on Inception when Derek perks up at the name, and sets the remote aside. Thinking that this would be a great time to get some reading done for class, Stiles frowns as he tries to remember where he left his backpack. He’s about to get up when Derek nudges against his thigh and points with a nod toward the arm of the sofa.

“I figured you’d want to do some work,” Derek explains, eyes focused on the screen. “I brought it over when you told me to come down. I used my mouth, so I wouldn’t break any rules.”

“Thanks babe.” Stiles leans over, careful not to dislodge Derek as he reaches in to withdraw Perfume, the book they’re reading in English. He has no idea what his teacher’s fascination is with German writers, but at least this is an interesting, if disturbing, read. He’s worked his way through about two chapters when he finally looks away from the text. Derek is completely relaxed against his thigh, every muscle loose in a way which rarely happens otherwise. Of equal interest is Derek’s cock, which grows as Stiles looks at it. It isn’t completely erect, just a little thicker where it’s laying against his tummy.

“You got a hard on for Joseph Gordon Levitt? Stiles asks, glancing at the screen, where Arthur is explaining impossible architecture to Ariadne.

Derek remains silent for a moment, as though contemplating the possibility before he responds. “Actually, he kind of reminds me of you.”

“A snappy dresser?” Stiles teases, and Derek chuckles, amusement evident in his features.

“Intelligent, you idiot.” Derek’s voice is gruff, and Stiles can tell he’s embarrassed, the way he always is when he gives compliments, and Stiles laughs. He continues to watch Derek, and notices that while his cock doesn’t get thicker, it doesn’t go down either.

“Touch yourself for me, Der.”

Derek inhales sharply, but reaches down, one hand cupping his balls, the other lightly gripping at the shaft, and then stops moving. Stiles returns to his reading, but continually checks to make sure Derek hasn’t moved his hands. Every time, he isn’t disappointed, and he watches Derek’s cock fluctuate in size, while his hands adjust only when his cock shifts.

“Play with your cock, Derek,” Stiles orders after about thirty minutes, and Derek takes another loud breath. Gently, Derek pulls and pushes his foreskin over the head of his cock, cock hardening with each slow stroke. With his other hand, Derek is rolling his balls, occasionally pulling on them.

Stiles can feel the wave of arousal flush his chest as he watches Derek tease at his cock. “C’mon, you know you wanna jerk off a little harder. Really play with it. The way you used to before I started to tell you how.”

“Yes sir. Thank you for letting me jerk myself off. Thank you letting me be rough with myself.”

Stiles sees a drop of fluid gather at the tip as Derek starts to stroke himself with more speed, a stronger grip. Derek’s eyes flutter shut as he thumbs the head of his cock on each upstroke.

“There you go, just like that, boy. Play with the slit of your cock.” Stiles watches in fascination as Derek presses the blunt nail of his index finger against the hole, easing up and groaning when the sensation becomes too intense. Derek’s always loves when Stiles plays with the slit, and not for the first time, he contemplates getting sounds to use on a special occasion. “Good boy, just like that.” 

Derek moans, encouraged by the praise. Stiles’s own cock is pressing against the thin fabric of his boxers, further confined by the head resting on his thigh. However, he simply shifts himself to relieve the pressure, eager to watch Derek as he pleasures himself.

When Derek begins to tremble, Stiles wonders how long he should keep Derek riding the edge. Desperation always looks gorgeous on Derek, but Stiles doesn’t want to punish him if Derek can’t stop himself from coming. He looks up at the screen to see the Inception team about to enter the second dream level and figures out a great way to structure Derek’s denial.

“You can stop, baby,” Stiles says, and Derek immediately releases his cock, sagging against the sofa in a mixture of relief and frustration. Derek clenches his fists and arches his back for a moment, and Stiles realizes how close to the edge his sub had been. He watches, fascinated by the copious amounts of pre-cum being released from Derek’s head, as it drips thick and stringy into a pool on the cut of his hip.

“Hand back on your cock, babe.” 

Derek obeys, placing his hands in the same places they had started. “When the movie’s on, your hands stay there. When it’s on break, you stroke yourself like you were a moment ago. Either way, your hand stays on your cock.”

“Y-yes, sir. Thank you for letting me edge myself,” Derek grinds out after a deep inhale.

Stiles feels his own cock begin to dampen his boxers, and he’s impressed Derek hasn’t made a comment about the smell. However, he’s too focused on watching Derek taut body to ask. At each break, his sub begins stroking himself furiously, with purpose, before he begins to ease off as the sensations start to become too much. By the end of each break, he’s shaking with the effort not to come, and as soon as the movie comes back on, he stops moving his hands and releases a whine which is part relief, part frustration.

After about the fourth commercial break, Derek’s constantly whining, but he continues to stroke obediently until the movie returns and he can stop. By the sixth, Derek is begging to be allowed to come.

“Stiles, sir, please. Please. I can’t. I need.” Derek’s hands don’t stop moving over his cock, hard shaft glistening with the pre-cum it’s slathered in, the tacky liquid released from the head with each stroke. 

“Shhhh,” Stiles soothes, running his hands in Derek’s hair while he sobs. “If you make it to the end, I’ll reward you.”

“I don’t-don’t know if I can,” Derek says, voice sounding wrecked and disappointed as the movie finally continues and he can stop.

“I know you can, babe,” Stiles pushes, looking away from Derek for a moment to look at the movie, where Ariadne is searching for Fischer in Limbo. “The movie is almost over, and you’re doing so well.”

“Y-yes, sir,” Derek answers after a swallow, voice high and trembling. 

On the next break, Derek’s hand is barely moving along the shaft, desperate to keep himself from coming while Stiles wipes away the tears of frustration leaking from his eyes. The break ends too soon for Stiles’s liking, but he won’t push it. Derek looks like he’s a firm stroke from coming.

That appears to be the last break of the movie. The plot comes to its ambiguous conclusion, and as soon as the credits start rolling, Derek’s looking at Stiles with desperate eyes.

“See Der. It’s over. Let go of your cock now.” 

Derek keens loudly as his hands fly off his cock, balling them into fists as he thrusts his hips once, twice, three times into nothing.

“Turn over and show me your ass, baby,” Stiles urges, after Derek’s hips have stopped jerking. Trembling, he complies, flipping over to rise on all fours, his ass firm and enticing.

“Here’s your reward, baby. You get a choice. You want me to rim you, or to finger you?” Derek makes a choked noise when Stiles reaches down to cup his balls. “Either way, you get to come.”

“Rim. Please rim,” Derek manages to get out, and Stiles grins.

“I knew you’d go for that,” Stiles says, placing a small kiss to Derek’s hole. His sub squeaks, the way he always does when Stiles begins to rim him. Tongue out and wide, Stiles delivers a long, slow lick, starting from the seam on Derek’s balls and ending at his twitching hole. He savors the saltiness of Derek’s sweat bathed skin, the dark, musky flavor that explodes on his tongue when he arrives at Derek’s hole. He licks at Derek’s crack in long, leisurely strokes, wanting to feel him squirm against him. Stiles is rewarded for his treatment when Derek presses back a little, clearly eager for more.

“Hold yourself open for me baby,” Stiles says, pulling back, and he chuckles when Derek complies in a rush, sustaining his weight with his cheek and shoulders so he can obey Stiles.

“Good boy.” Stiles praises, zeroing in on Derek’s hole. He noses at the puckered flesh, inhaling deeply, the smell of Derek’s precum and his strong, natural scent overpowering the smell of soap. It’s heady, intoxicating, and Stiles closes his eyes for a moment to savor the scent. But Derek’s hole is exposed, and Stiles’s attention returns quickly. With his hands free to roam, he strokes at the smooth thighs in front of him, occasionally running his nails down the tender flesh. He begins again with light, feathery licks, small teasing things that have Derek groaning until his hole goes soft against Stiles’s tongue. Then, without warning, he pushes his tongue in as far as he can, hands moving to tug at Derek’s balls sharply. A broken noise escapes from Derek’s throat as he arches his back, pushing back desperately against Stiles.

“See what happens when you’re good, baby? You get rewarded.” Stiles breathes onto Derek’s hole when he pulls back for a moment, watching as Derek practically vibrates with the need to come. Stiles bends down lower and bites at the juncture between Derek’s ass and thigh, and his sub yelps in shocked arousal. Stiles sucks hard, teeth digging in as hard as he can. When he pulls back, he’s pleased by the huge bruise which has formed. Stiles watches as it heals over almost immediately, tracing his fingers over where it had been, and is so tempted to do it again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Derek chokes out, canting his hips back. “T-thank you, Sti. Thankyouthankyouthankyou. M-mark me, make me yours, let me come. Pleasepleaseplease.”

“Shhh,” Stiles soothes, hands stroking at Derek’s slick thighs. “Let’s play one last game.”

Stiles moves to trace the rim of tight muscle before pushing his tongue inside. Almost immediately he pulls out, and resumes tracing the hole. Tickling Derek’s balls, he pushes in again, earning himself a loud moan, and if he weren’t busy, Stiles knows he would look smug. He lets his tongue lick against the insides of the pliant hole before he pulls away again, Derek whining his distress. He gives one last long stroke, both up and down against Derek’s hole, and Derek lets out a hitching sob. Stiles unbuttons his own boxers and finally pulls his own cock through the slit, less about his personal gratification and more about needing to relieve the pressure.

“If you can come from just me rimming you,” Stiles says as Derek sobs again, “I’ll let you fuck me senseless tonight.”

Eager to feel Derek come apart on his tongue, Stiles begins to shove into Derek in earnest. He alternates between curling and twisting his tongue inside Derek, at the fast pace his sub loves. He retracts to lap at the rim, using so much saliva, he feels it run down his face as Derek jerks into him. He presses his face in as far as he can, until his nose is pressed uncomfortably against Derek’s flesh and his chin is resting against Derek’s balls. He discomfort is completely worth it, Stiles thinks, as he hears the sobbing, groaning mess he’s made of Derek. His Alpha starts to thrust backwards more desperately, back tense and bowed. Stiles moves his hands back to Derek’s balls as he grazes the rim of Derek’s hole with his teeth before he pushes in again, the sharp sensation making Derek shudder harshly. With one hand kneading at Derek’s balls, Stiles uses the other to ghost around Derek’s cock, not to touch, but to tease at his cock with its heat. Unsurprisingly, he runs into a thick string of pre-cum, no doubt leading to a small pool which has been collecting since Derek turned over. His sub is moaning loudly, unabashed, and Stiles knows it won’t be long.

“Sti!” Derek finally gasps, and Stiles retracts his tongue from inside Derek’s hole and instead licks broadly outside. A second later, Derek keens, and the room is filled with the sharp, pungent scent of his come. Stiles finally begins to stroke Derek’s softening cock through the aftershocks, and he continues to lick at the twitching hole as Derek spasms, soaking the sofa beneath him in come.

“So good,” Stiles murmurs against Derek’s hole when he has stopped shuddering. “Look at how well my boy behaves. Always so good.” 

Stiles takes the hand which had been wrapped around Derek’s cock and rubs into Derek’s abs, coating them in come. He then shifts off the sofa, pressing up on Derek’s abdomen. Derek rises to his knees, and makes a grabbing motion toward Stiles when he stands. Stiles’s stomach flips as Derek whines, eyes glowing red as he begs for proximity and he makes quick work of his shirt and boxers, erection bobbing as he removes the underwear.

As soon as he’s naked, Stiles pushes against Derek. He maneuvering them until Stiles is lying in Derek’s come, and he squirms around, knowing he’s going to reek of Derek for days. Derek’s eyes widen as he understands Stiles’s intention was never to get away, but to mark himself with Derek’s scent, and he jumps on top of Stiles, pinning him to the sofa. Stiles’s hands begin to rub at his Alpha’s back as Derek latches onto Stiles’s neck to lick and suckle. Derek’s leg is pressed up against his erection in a way which is uncomfortable, but Stiles is unwilling to move, wanting to ease Derek back into reality before they separate again.

“There isn’t a better sub in the world better for me, Der. Not a single person. You’re it for me. Now and forever. No one compares to you, my good, good boy,” Stiles soothes, wincing when Derek’s teeth scrape against the bruise he’s creating. Regardless, Stiles continues to lull and rub until he feels Derek suddenly stop.

“You back, baby?” Stiles asks, but when Derek separates from him, his eyes are still bright red. Lifting up, his Alpha looks down at their bodies, and Stiles follows his gaze confused, until he realizes Derek is staring at his ignored erection. When Derek begins to moves a tentative hand toward it, Stiles grasps his sub’s wrist tightly, certain he can’t hurt the larger man.

“No, babe. Leave it,” Stiles says firmly, moving Derek’s hand away from the area, wanting to ignore his own need until his sub was fully aware. Derek doesn’t seem to understand, though, because as soon as Stiles releases Derek’s wrist, Derek is reaching for Stiles’s cock again. “I said no, Der.”

When Stiles denies Derek a second time, Derek whines high in his throat, collapsing back onto Stiles. He presses himself as close to Stiles as possible, nosing the bruise on Stiles’s neck. Stiles can feel Derek screw his eyes shut, then by the damp heat of tears against his neck, which trickle to his shoulders.

“Baby, it’s okay. Whatever’s going on, it’s alright, I promise,” Stiles soothes, heart racing in concern for his sub. With Derek trembling, Stiles racks his brain, trying to figure out what has set Derek off. Derek didn’t use his safe word. Stiles didn’t introduce an element they hadn’t talked about and done before. Stiles didn’t step into any territory Derek labeled as off limits. By the time Derek starts to settle in his arms, Stiles’s concern has grown exponentially, to the point his erection has died away, completely forgotten.

“What did I do wrong?” Derek sniffles into Stiles’s throat, and Stiles tenses.

“Der, you were so good for me. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Stiles angles his head to press a kiss into Derek’s hair. “Why do you think you did anything?”

“You didn’t let me touch you,” Derek whispers, voice breaking, “and now, you aren’t even hard.”

Stiles’s eyes widen in understanding. Derek had misunderstood Stiles’s refusal for a hand job. What Stiles had seen as a way to focus on Derek’s pleasure, Derek had seen as a rejection of him. Stiles’s heart is all but bursting from his chest as he realizes all of the thoughts that must have been racing through Derek’s mind; that Stiles didn’t want him, didn’t need him anymore. That Stiles didn’t find him attractive, that he would just discard Derek and leave.

“No, baby, look at me.” Derek separates as little as possible, just enough so that he can turn his face toward Stiles. “You were incredible. Amazing.” Derek just chews his lip, uncertainty painting his face.

“The only reason I stopped you,” Stiles continues, sliding one hand away from Derek’s sweaty hair to rub his fingers against Derek’s stubble as best he can, “is because I didn’t want to ruin your drop by making you do anything else.”

“I wanted to,” Derek blurts, before snapping his mouth shut. Derek looks away, as though ashamed, and the only thing Stiles can think is he really messed this one up.

“Hey, c’mon, let me see those gorgeous eyes,” Stiles murmurs, and Derek reluctantly looks up.

“How can you not know how much I love you? Derek, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” Stiles leans forward to press a light kiss against Derek’s lips.

“I look at you sometimes, and I can’t believe how lucky I am. You are completely gorgeous, the hottest person I’ve ever seen, and I’m talking like, sizzling hotter than the sun hot,” Stiles says, adding the joke to see Derek smile weakly at him. 

“And you’re such a good sub. You’re so obedient, so good for me. You listen and you obey and you learn, and I can’t believe you picked me to be your dom sometimes. You make me so proud to call you my partner.” Derek closes his eyes, and Stiles smiles in understanding. Compliments have never been something Derek’s good with, they embarrass him, and it’s usually easier for him if he can’t see Stiles.

“But it’s more than that,” Stiles whispers, leaning in to pepper kisses against Derek’s lips, Derek’s nose, Derek’s cheeks. “You understand me in a way no one ever has. You give me all of these amazing things in bed, but you give me so much more when we’re not. You’re the one who calls me to bed at three in the morning because you know I’ll forget to sleep otherwise. You’re the one who knows just how to calm me down and take care of me after a panic attack. You’re-“ Stiles voice catches as a lump forms in his throat, and he does his best to swallow it down. “You’re the man who holds me when it’s my mom’s birthday.”

“You keep me safe,” Stiles continues, words babbling out now, uncontrolled. “We keep each other safe. You’ve protected me from Alphas, and ghouls, and demons, and I hope you know I’ve done my best to do the same. You’ve made a home for us, a place we can call ours. And I might have to live in this shitty apartment while I’m in school, but as soon as I’m done, I know I’ve got a place to go, and that’s thanks to you. I’ve never felt this way about someone. And the fact that you feel the same way? I never want to let you go.”

The torrent of words seems to have the desired effect on Derek, as he sags in relief, Stiles’s heartbeat and sincerity enough to convince him. Stiles presses a final kiss onto his Alpha before Derek settles against his neck again. Stiles rubs his hands down the cooling sweat on Derek’s back, familiar gesture soothing to them both.

“Okay, the last one sounded kind of stalkerish,” Stiles amends in jest, and Derek laughs weakly. “I mean I always want to be with you. Actually, that doesn’t sound much better. Ummm… I want to spend every waking moment in your amazing presence? I’d rather run into a burning building than… Okay, you know what, I’m just going to shut up and enjoy the cuddling.”

“Thank you,” Derek whispers after a lengthy pause, and Stiles can feel him smile against his neck. 

“Always,” Stiles promises. “Now get some rest, babe.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to-”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Stiles says, cutting him off, and Derek huffs in exasperation. “This morning was supposed to be about you. And I have big plans for us later.”

“I was promised your ass,” Derek says, and the eagerness in his voice makes Stiles smile fondly.

“Yes, you were. But I’ll do you one better.” Stiles turns his head so he can whisper into Derek’s ear.

“When we wake up, I’m going to ride you until you paint my insides with your come.”


End file.
